Early Years
by fictionalcandie
Summary: A collection of thoughts on the early life of Sirius Black. [Oneshot.]


**Disclaimer:**The world and characters of the Harry Potter series do not belong to me. It's all Jo's.

**Author's Note: **I should not be allowed to listen to Vertical Horizon. Every time I do, I get the squishiest plot bunnies for fics involving Sirius and Regulus. They're pushy little devils.

**o.o.o.o**

_At five, Sirius realized that his mother liked Regulus more._

There were tears streaming down Sirius's cheeks as he sobbed. Small hands closed on the skirt of his mother's robes and he began to tug frantically. "Mummy," he gasped through his tears. His side still stung from whatever Regulus had done to him. "Mummy, Reggie stole Daddy's wand and he _hurt me_!"

Mrs Black looked past her eldest son and saw his brother standing hesitantly in the doorway. There was a long, gleaming length of wood clenched in his two tiny white fists. She smiled at him.

"Aw, Reggie," she cooed, standing and dislodging Sirius distractedly. "Has my baby learned to curse people _already_? Oh, Mummy's so proud of you!"

She scooped up the small boy, who wrapped his arms around her neck automatically, and began to cuddle him. Poor Regulus looked rather confused, staring at his brother over their mother's shoulder. He was frowning and his eyes were just a little scared.

Sirius didn't see these particulars, though. He only saw his mother turn away from him. Through his tears, he glared at Regulus.

**o.o.o.o**

_At eight, Sirius realized that his mother discriminated between Muggles and Wizards the way she discriminated between him and his brother._

Sirius crouched outside the library door, listening as his mother spoke to his brother. This was one of their hours, the second of four in every day, when they'd go off somewhere and Mrs Black would fill Regulus's head with whatever she pleased.

It should have made Sirius jealous, but it didn't really. It had been years since she'd given up pretending not to play favorites. Sirius was just _angry_, which was why he crept around and eavesdropped, whenever Mrs Black forgot to put a Silencing Charm up. She hadn't used them at first, but after a while of Sirius glaring and picking fights with his brother, the charms had started to go up and Sirius knew they were talking about _him_.

Mrs Black didn't like the way Sirius retaliated when Regulus used a wand against him. She didn't mind that they _fought_, she minded when Sirius won using 'Muggle means'. It wasn't fair, he thought, because it wasn't _his_ fault he was bigger and stronger than his younger brother.

Besides. He didn't know how to use a wand, and he didn't want to yet. His fists worked well enough for him. He'd even beaten one of his cousins with them, once. Regulus had never done _that_ with a _wand_.

"You mustn't listen to your brother, darling," Mrs Black was saying. Her voice was indulgent, but firm. "Never."

"Yes, Mummy," was the obedient answer, spoken with all the solemnity of a seven year old. Sirius made a face; swotty little mama's boy.

"I mean it, dearest," cautioned their mother. Sirius imagined she was stroking Regulus's hair, the way she did when she wanted him to listen extra carefully. "Sirius doesn't know what he's talking about."

Feeling the jealous and anger at last rise up in his chest, Sirius bit his lip 'til it bled. It hurt, but it gave him an excuse for the tears in his eyes. He didn't cry out; if Regulus and Mrs Black knew he was there, listening to them, it would only make things worse.

"Mummy," Regulus piped up suddenly, "What's wrong with Sirius?"

Mrs Black sounded surprised, but not exactly unhappy, when she replied, "Why, whatever do you mean, pet?"

"What makes him bad so that you and Daddy don't like him?"

Sirius, who had often wondered this same question, held his breath.

"Oh, Regulus, you darling boy," laughed Mrs Black. Right then Sirius knew he wasn't going to like what she had to say. "It's only that we've tried so hard to instill in him the right ways of thinking, and he still prefers _Muggles_."

"Muggles?"

"Yes, darling. Absolute filth -- not even _people_ really, and certainly you and he have never been exposed to them -- but your brother does things _their_ way, nevertheless."

There was almost total silence from behind the door. For a moment, Sirius thought Mrs Black must have finally put up a Silencing Charm, but it turned out that it had only been Regulus considering what she'd said. Quite innocently, he queried, "You mean he doesn't use a wand the way I do?"

"Yes, exactly, precious," purred Mrs Black. She sounded smug, as if she'd at last gotten a major truth through to her favorite son and was now reveling in it.

"But, Mummy, he beats me sometimes, and--" objected Regulus, an angry little frown in his voice. Sirius could just picture his face, screwed up as he thought about this.

Sirius sighed. It wasn't Regulus's fault, after all; Mrs Black had been poisoning him against his brother since before he could speak. Sirius understood now, at eight, that his mother had never been satisfied with him, and sometimes he wondered what he'd done as a baby to displease her.

"No," Mrs Black snapped sternly, interrupting Regulus. If it had been Sirius, she would have slapped him for his impudence. "_No_, dearest. Sirius doesn't beat you. You let him win. You must _never_ listen to him, Reggie. He knows nothing -- he's just a horrid little whelp with no understanding of our family ideals."

"Yes, Mummy," replied Regulus, his tone softer than usual. Sirius didn't notice the uncertainty in the small voice. He was too busy replaying the things Mrs Black had said.

_Sirius doesn't beat you._

_You let him win._

_He's just a horrid little whelp._

He was filled with hurt so strong it burned away his tears. Hands fisted at his sides, Sirius slunk away from the library. In his room, he locked the door and curled up under his bed. The floor was cold.

His eyes stared straight ahead as he decided that his mother truly didn't love him at all. And it was just because he liked fighting without a wand. Because he'd rather do something the _Muggle_ way.

**o.o.o.o**

_At ten, Sirius realized that he didn't care; he certainly doesn't think Regulus is any better than he is, and his mother might as well be wrong about Muggles, too._

There was a part of the house where nobody else ever went, and when he wanted to be alone, Sirius would run there. Like most other attics, it was often dusty, and filled with boxes of old junk. But it was quiet, and he could think without being disturbed.

Very late one summer evening, Sirius sat in one of the attic's dark corners. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his chin resting on them as he hugged his legs. He'd met his first Muggle a few hours before, and was trying to wrap his mind around what he'd learned.

From things his mother had said, he'd thought Muggles must be horrible creatures, looking more like monkeys than humans. But the young woman he'd run into when he'd snuck out of the house to go and play in the nearby park... well, she had seemed perfectly _lovely_. In fact, Sirius didn't think he'd ever seen anyone as beautiful.

She'd been nice, as well. She'd smiled when he apologized for bumping into her, and called him 'a little dear' when he'd said she was pretty. She'd asked what he was doing out by himself -- Sirius hadn't the heart to tell her that he did everything by himself, so he'd told her his parents were around the park somewhere. Oh, the kindness in her eyes when she'd offered to walk him back to them!

She was absolutely the most wonderful adult he'd ever met.

And Mrs Black said all Muggles were horrid.

He made a face, sneering into the semidarkness. If Muggles were anything like that sweet young woman, then the last thing he'd want to call them was _horrid_. How could a person think something so... so... so _wrong_?

It was then that something occurred to Sirius suddenly, like spring sunshine bursting on the world after a long winter. His sneer turned into a thoughtful frown as he sat up straighter.

"Maybe... maybe Mother's _wrong_," Sirius whispered hopefully to the box in front of him. It couldn't have responded, but he wasn't looking for a reply.

He considered things for a little longer. A light was forming in his eyes, a sparkle that had been missing for several years. He smiled to himself when he came to a conclusion; it was one he quite liked.

"Mother _is_ wrong. I _know_ she's wrong to think Regulus is better than I am... she can be wrong about this too!" he cried, leaping to his feet.

That was the last time he gave the matter any serious thought.

**o.o.o.o**

_At eleven, Sirius told the Sorting Hat that he would burn it if it put him in Slytherin with his cousins._

Sirius was trembling as he took a seat on the little stool. He was terrified what the outcome of this moment could do with the rest of his life. His cousins were waiting for him at the Slytherin table, and the last thing he wanted was to have to join them. The sorting hat slipped over his head, obscuring his view of the hall, thank Merlin.

He gulped and waiting for something to happen. In a second, it did.

"Well, what have we here? Another Black?" a voice said in his ear.

An image of the seat at the Slytherin table that Narcissa was 'saving for him' flashed through his mind. He grimaced. "Yes. Unfortunately."

"_Ooh,_" gasped the voice, and Sirius thought it sounded somewhat amused. "What's _this_ then? You don't _like_ being a Black?"

Sirius was about to respond, when the hat answered its own question.

"No, I can see that you don't. Well, well... I haven't seen a case like this in quite some years." The hat stopped and laughed in a very genial way, and Sirius found he couldn't be offended. "Where to put you, though? My, but you _have_ got ambition --"

"If you put me in Slytherin," Sirius thought fiercely, interrupting the voice, "Then I swear to Merlin I'll _burn you_."

"How _brash_," but the hat was laughing again. "I see why, though. Don't like your cousins either, then?"

"I hate them," retorted Sirius. "And I'll hate you too, if you make me join them."

The hat stopped laughing. "Oh, you're a wild one, aren't you? I know just the place for you -- GRYFFINDOR!"

It yelled the last word to the hall. As Sirius took the hat off and placed it back on the stool, he expected to hear cheering, as he had for the three students who'd been sorted before him. But all around the hall there was silence. Narcissa, at the Slytherin table, looked as if she'd just bitten into a rather nasty lemon.

Sirius knew which table was Gryffindor, but with the silent, staring eyes of the entire hall on him, his steps faltered. McGonagall was frowning behind him, but he couldn't make himself move forward.

Then, just as he was sure he would be yelled at by the stern looking professor, a boy still in line with the first years started clapping and cheering loudly. Sirius glanced back, surprised. It was a skinny, black-haired boy with a thin face and glasses. Sirius grinned uncertainly, as the Gryffindor table started to cheer, and the other boy grinned back.

**o.o.o.o**

_At fifteen, Sirius told Regulus that he would burn in hell for being such a lily-livered mama's boy. Regulus told him right back that **he** would burn in hell for being a no good, Muggle-loving excuse for a pureblood._

"You're a brat," hissed Sirius, at the retreating back of his younger brother. There was a horrible, vicious scowl marring his features, but he didn't care. "A stupid, spoiled little brat."

Regulus stopped and whirled around. There was a scowl on his face as well, and it was such a fierce expression that Sirius missed the hurt that flashed briefly in his eyes. "_I'm_ a brat, Sirius?"

Sirius scoffed. He held his crossed arms close to his chest, like a shield. "Well, you certainly don't see me getting spoiled rotten around here."

"Spoiled _rotten_?" Regulus was beginning to look well and honestly angry. He had his wand on him, but Sirius wasn't afraid of that.

Sirius hesitated a second, considering. Then he twisted his face into a sardonic smile. He snarled, "Absolutely _foul_."

Back stiffening, Regulus snapped back, "And what about you, then?"

"Oh, I'm just a horrid little whelp," the older boy declared, dropping his voice a little. "A horrid little whelp with no understanding of our family's ideals."

Sirius had the satisfaction of watching his brother turn red and then white, his mouth falling open slightly. He saw with disturbing pleasure the exact moment that understanding flooded Regulus's eyes. The younger brother began to look as if he was going to be sick.

"How did you--" gasped Regulus, taking a step backwards.

"I listen," Sirius said nastily. Part of his stomach fell away as his brother's face turned slightly green, but he didn't let it show. "Besides, it's no secret what Mother thinks of me."

"You--"

"Yes, _I_," scoffed Sirius, his teeth bared. He was trying to act for all the world as if it didn't still bother him that Regulus had never stood up for him and it seemed to be working, in so much as he sounded only disgusted. The last thing he wanted was for his brother to hear any hurt in his voice. "Have something to say, mama's boy?"

Regulus's cheeks flushed darkly, an unsettling contrast to the pallor of the rest of his face. "What did you call me?" he demanded, his first complete sentence since Sirius had brought up the whelp business.

"You heard me," retorted Sirius. He lifted his chin a little higher, sneering down his nose at his brother.

"That wasn't very nice, Sirius," Regulus muttered, his voice low and full of forced calm.

"When have we ever been nice to each other, little brother?" Sirius asked, laughing mirthlessly.

Regulus silent for half a minute. Then, he dropped his eyes to the floor. His voice started out too quiet to hear, growing louder and losing its regretful edge as it went on. He spoke more, but all Sirius heard was his hard-edged last word.

"Not since I was too small to listen to _Mother_."

The candles in the holders all along the hallway flickered as a breeze ruffled the curtains on one of the windows, left open accidentally. Almost offhandedly, Sirius declared, "You're going to burn in hell for that, someday."

"What?" snapped Regulus, sounding slightly confused. His eyes had left the floor and he was staring at his brother again.

"Being a lily-livered mama's boy, I mean," explained Sirius. He sounded for all the world as if they were discussing something as bland as what they'd had for breakfast.

"Right." Regulus's voice was tight, and so was his expression. Most of the color was back in his face, but he still looked as if he were about to throw up. "Well, I guess I'll just see you there, then."

"Excuse me?" blurted Sirius. In the cold glow of the black candles, it was easy to miss his startled grimace.

"I'll see you in hell," Regulus repeated coldly. "After all, that's where every dirty, Muggle-loving, no good excuse for a proper pureblood ends up."

Sirius uncrossed his arms quickly, his hands forming fists at his sides. His gut was rolling angrily and he couldn't keep down a growl. In an instant he would have decked the smaller boy, but for some reason he just stood and glared at him.

Regulus glared right back, his hand on his wand in case he'd need to defend himself; he wasn't sure how much good it would do, knowing that Sirius didn't fear the slender shaft of wood, and having lost to him more times than he could count.

The boys were uncertain how long they stood there, squared off against each other. Finally, Sirius decided it simply wasn't worth it. He unclenched his fingers and turned to leave. As he walked away, he couldn't help but wonder why Regulus didn't try to hex his exposed back.

**o.o.o.o**

_At sixteen, Sirius told his parents that he'd burn their house down sooner than spend another minute under its filthy roof._

"Sirius, you will behave in future," shrieked Mrs Black, still wearing her elegant evening robes. The jewelry on her wrists sparkled as she waved her arms around in agitation.

"Or _else_," added Mr Black, glaring balefully at his oldest son. He too was dressed to the nines and gleaming with anger at having his evening of fun and socializing ruined. "This sort of going on is beyond unacceptable."

Sirius returned their angry stares with a cold one of his own. He hadn't started the fight that had broken up the dinner party, and he wasn't going to apologize for having participated in it. And he _definitely_ wasn't going to apologize for having given young Rosier a black eye. Stupid fool hadn't known to duck when Sirius had switched from his wand to his fist.

"Well?" Mrs Black demanded shrilly. There were two spots of pink on her cheeks. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

"He deserved it," was all Sirius would say to excuse his behavior. But he said it twice, as if using the repetition to make up for having offered nothing else. "He _deserved_ it."

Mr Black looked quite ready to commit homicide, if only he could find his wand. He pointed to the stairs with one quivering, aristocratic finger and hissed, "Go to your room, boy. This instant."

"Go to my room?" queried Sirius, without moving his feet. He gave a harsh bark of laughter. "You really think you can tell me what to do?"

"You'll do as you're _told_, Sirius Black, or you'll not leave your room 'til you go back to school."

Sirius was silent a moment, considering his options. After a little while, his parents still glaring at him heatedly, he declared, "I'd sooner set my room on fire than stay another night in this hell."

"Then get out!" roared Mrs Black immediately, leaping on the chance to be rid of him. Spittle flew from her mouth as she screamed, and a mask of rage turned her once-beautiful face grotesque. "Get out, and don't you dare ever come back!"

"Don't worry, I'd rather _die_ then come back here," Sirius yelled in return. He stormed out of the room and through the house.

When the front door slammed behind him, the noise reverberated around the deserted foyer. When a thin young man in dress robes stalked away down the street, 12 Grimmauld Place stood silent in the falling snow.

Sirius didn't ever miss it at all.


End file.
